War Games
by cdewinter78
Summary: Following the events of "Ambush" Callen finds himself drawn back into his past.There is a reason Callen is always moving ... but some things you can't outrun - no matter how much practice you've had. Rated for possible language and darker themes, though
1. Chapter 1

A/N- This has been resubmitted with edits from the precise pen of Angelprincesslilac. Huge thank you for all your work Angela.

WAR GAMES  
By: cdewinter78  
Edited By: angelprincesslilac

As he watched Jay from across the clearing, that a few hours earlier had been a secret ELE base, he couldn't help being drawn back in time. In the disheveled remains of the Militia's main training ground, now crawling with FBI and agents from all quarters of the Government's unofficial and official sectors, the teenager stood out in Callen's mind like a sore thumb: from his oversized combats, to the way he was trying with all his might to keep in the unmanly tears that threatened his makeshift, hard-ass mask. Jay really should have been hanging with his buddies and not kneeling in the dirt sporting a bloody face and that God-damn awful goatee!

Callen smiled wryly as he replayed the moment the kid had sassed him about his inability to grow facial hair. It had been at that moment, trading "at least I" insults with the boy, that he had been struck by a painfully strong sense of bittersweet déjà-vu. Jay had even smirked slyly like Travis.

Travis Boyd had been ten years old, the same age as G, when he had become another victim of the less well-regulated side of the State's Child Protection Services. G owed Travis his life. Travis, one of a handful of ghosts from the past the NCIS agent felt he needed to settle with. Seeing Jay pull a gun on him and Sam in the hut they had been thrown into, had turned Callen's blood cold; not because he or Sam were at risk, but because it had come too close to that day a million years ago. The day that had ended in G covered in a blanket, trying hard to look inside himself and avoid the outside world of pushy cops, defensive, drunken, Foster "parents", and well-meaning social case workers who always arrived too damn late… And Travis' blood.

Back then G had had no control. Not over his past, his present, or his future; if he made it there. That was no longer the case. G was utterly in control. His defenses were airtight. Today, he'd had the chance to save another kid from taking the same life lessons that he'd been subjected to; the ones marked "learning the hard way". He had already talked Jay out of sharing a transport with the rest of the gun-toting weirdoes with their ZZ-Top fetish, and was now half-listening to one of the higher-ups running his request through for leniency for the boy, on the grounds of his help with the peaceful resolution of the operation. God, how desk jockeys loved their word counts! Fifty words where one would do!

When he finally got the green light, he made his way over to Jay. The kid's head was hung so low he looked like a weather-beaten scarecrow, but, when you looked into his bruised face, you could see he was just plain beaten. Slowly, G watched that mask crumble as he told Jay about his near-brush with a prison record. Callen had to swallow a lump in his throat as he listened to the kid's resolve break with one word:

"Mom?"

They teased each other a little more; he and the Jonas brother, partially because Callen wanted to preserve some of the young boy's dignity in front of the glaring hillbillies; but mostly because G was having a hard time, himself, keeping a grip on the emotions he usually had dead-locked. When the kid mentioned waking up and saving his life, G felt the burn in his eyes. Though he managed to answer the kid and wish him well, he knew he had to find some space … Fast. Melting down anywhere near his team was not an option.

Kensi and Sam had finished their initial debrief and the first of four sets of paperwork when Kensi spied Callen cutting away from the clearing.

"Huh. Who'd you suppose he bribed to get out of all this?" She waved the offending sheets in the air.

Sam was about to loose one of his usual smart-ass remarks about Kevlar G, when his friend passed close enough to a blazing searchlight to outline the haunted expression on his face. Frowning, Special Agent Hanna let it slide. This would be one of the hundreds of "don't ask, don't tell" moments between him and his enigmatic partner, except this time… Callen had been crying. Sam literally shuddered to think what could draw that kind of response from the man who had turned deflection into an art form. With something big enough to push all Callen's buttons this way, Hanna knew one thing for a damn fact … G was going to level with him!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- Thanks again to my Beta Angela - who overlooks my unatural affection for the Hypen.... and many other grammer slips I'm sure!!! Also thank you to everyone for your kind reviews. I know I am less than swift when it comes to updating but it really keeps me plugging away when I read that you'll are reading along! Cheers Abi

* * *

WAR GAMES  
Chapter 2  
By: cdewinter78  
Edited By: angelprincesslilac

Sam Hanna was not used to doubting his own senses. He was a long way from a Middle Eastern desert, so witnessing his partner of three years breaking down in tears, couldn't have been a mirage. G Callen didn't just play his cards close to his chest; he gave the impression of playing his whole hand Blind and bluffed his way through every uncomfortable emotional situation that arose with his infamous "I'm always alright" defense. G did not share easily, and he never let things slip… not while sober, anyway. Sam had witnessed those rare occasions when G had given in to the anger that he held in check so tightly. He always made sure Callen was in no imminent danger, then he would let the boy sleep it off. It was a running joke that if Callen woke up on Sam's couch, it had been one rowdy night.

Callen's cavalier approach to personal risks in his job bothered a number of people. None of whom had ever had their lives saved by G. Hanna knew what it was like. And more than that, Sam knew that whatever spark of brilliance or touch of madness within G made him who he was; it also made G a natural, born operator and the best Agent Sam had ever seen. It also made Callen family, and, right now, something was deeply wrong with his family… And that was not something Sam could stand to witness.

Making his way across the wooded terrain marked by searchlights, headlights, and police lights, he sought out the dark corner G had fled to. Part of him was more than a little uncomfortable at the thought of caring and sharing – even with G. It's not like the Navy Seals ever trained you to pass around the Kleenex. Aside from the other man's aversion to Emo moments, Sam had his own healthy appreciation for the 'don't ask – don't tell' lifestyle. But this was just not like G, to give himself away like that, to let that God-damned irritating smirk slip so publically… It made Sam quicken his step.

Reaching the place he had last tracked his partner to, he saw his shadowy form resting his head against a tree whilst appearing to be answering the call of nature. Sam proceeded lightly, attempting to survey the situation, and relieved he hadn't found Callen in his earlier state. Coughing slightly, he announced his presence.

"Go find your own eco-restroom, Sam." Callen called over his shoulder, affecting his usual smart-ass tone.

Sam frowned, the voice was passable—for anyone who hadn't had to put up with it over the last couple of years. There was tightness to it, and something else...

"How's the head?"

"Fine, considering it bears your boot print." Callen quipped.

There it was again, that small hitch of breath that gave away Callen's command performance. Sam was not buying. But for now, he was willing to play along as G did not appear to be in a sharing mood.

"Lucky for us, Malcolm chose to smack you in the only armor-plated part of your body." Hanna remarked dryly.

"I am touched by your concern, Sam … Now do you think you could move it fifty paces back so that I can finish business here?" G asked politely without moving.

"Just don't forget to swing past the Candy wagon – you know how Hetty gets if we "forget" about the Post Incident Medical Evaluation. Besides, you did take a pretty decent knock …" Sam left the obvious hanging. G was uncomfortable with open displays of emotion and probably thought his own had gone unnoticed.

To his surprise, Callen didn't pass his usual smart-ass response. As he moved away, Sam made a mental note to double-check that G took that trip to the ambulance station.

Once he'd heard Sam's footsteps move away, Callen clung to the bark for dear life as his body slipped sideways. The banging in his head was superseded by the rushing roar of blood in his ears, and, suddenly, he found himself doubled-over, spilling his last meager meal on the forest floor. Closing his eyes he desperately sought to slow his breathing and rein in the girly moment that seemed to have high-jacked him ever since he'd started crying like a twelve-year-old girl scout. As he felt the darkness creep in at the corners of his vision, he knew he'd forgotten one, very important lesson. One he had learned pat at the age of ten: never close your eyes. That's when the bad dreams came – whether in the real world, or just those that howled in his head.

He knew, as he glimpsed the God-awful burgundy carpet and the lime green wallpaper that had escaped the sixties, exactly which nightmare he was revisiting. This had been the ring side seat he'd taken all those years ago. This was the Cooper's living room. He felt his heart skip a beat as he heard an intelligible roar come from the kitchen followed by the unmistakable dull thud of the bottle of cheap whisky hitting the table. He shrank back into himself as he heard Mr. Cooper's steps move closer, rushing into the room like a storm raging against the two helpless ten-year-olds cowering there. He knew it was his turn this time – Cooper was nothing if not fair when dishing out the "lessons". But even as his mind seemed to careen towards the awful, gut-churning conclusion of that night, covered in Travis' blood and his shame, he managed to slip back into the present. Finding himself sore after he'd obviously face-planted on the ground, he groaned as he pulled himself up to slump against the helpful tree.

It was in this position that Kensi stumbled upon him. She let out an oath that any Marine would have been proud to tag, as she rushed towards him.

"Callen! Jesus, are you okay?"

"Just a little woozy, Kenz. I think Sam lied about how hard he kicked me." Callen said breathlessly, smiling crookedly at her.

"I think I should kick your skinny ass harder next time you feed me that "I'm fine" bull!" Sam growled marching towards the clearing alerted by Kensi's cry.

As the tall Marine reached him and got an arm under his shoulder, G stiffened at the contact and began to protest his case more loudly. "Come off it, Sam!" Callen objected exasperatedly. "I just got a little light-headed – I'm the bullet-proof one, remember?"

As Sam ignored him and firmed up his grip. He lifted the shorter man easily, only to be halted by the noise of G sucking in air as his legs seemed to fold under him. Sam instinctively threw his other arm round his partner's waist taking most of his weight. Callen had passed out. Kensi set off at a jog to flag some help, whilst Sam half-walked, half-dragged Callen along with him, angry at himself for ignoring the instincts that had served him well so far.

"Bullet-proof, huh?" Sam questioned the slumped man at his side who was slowly coming to.

Sam could make out the EMT's rushing towards them in the darkness. He felt Callen stir and blew out a relieved sigh.

"Looks like that medical evaluation is coming to you, G. Don't even think about ducking out, Callen – I will tie your ass to that damn tree."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 –

Callen had woken up in so many strange places that strange got to looking kind of normal these days. Waking up to an elongated blur bearing an uncanny resemblance to Sam with what looked like a parrot on his shoulder, was way off even Callen's chart. He blinked heavily and let out a low groan as his head treid to roll off when he lifted it. To his horror the parrot began to move and flapped towards him. A steadying hand and a concerned voice drifted to him trying to calm him.

"Callen, its Nate do you know where you are?"

The parrot sounded just like Nate. Callen shook his head to clear the last of the sleep and disorientation. His head did not appreciate the gesture and while his stomach rolled he tried to get up.

"Whoa there G." Sam's voice cautioned. "I only got you a partial probation, at the first sign of actual brain bruising, we are taking you straight to the nearest hospital, answer Nate's question."

Callen raised an unfriendly eyebrow at the huge hand splayed across his chest, effectively keeping him still. Sam was not joking.

"From the familiar lumps in the couch and the tasteful terracotta accents on the wall, I'd say we are in the NCIS Bat cave. And some nurses you two would make – Sam, did Nate fall asleep on your shoulder? I could have choked on my tongue!"

"If only!" Sam grumbled halfheartedly.

The well built agent folded himself back into one of the single seats.

"You know I can always drop you back at the hospital – no matter how much you kick, scream and bite."

Sam watched worriedly as Callen actually allowed Nate to help him up to a sitting position. G hated being clucked over, he began to wonder if Getz had, had a point about letting Callen recover under professional observation. Frowning he erased that thought. His partner hated hospitals, and had on occasion begged Sam to 'spring him' from such institutions. Needles scared him, doctors scared him – being out of control terrified G, and Sam knew it. But if G got too far out of it – Sam would carry him back if he had to.

"What time is it?" G questioned letting Sam's threat lie.

"You woke up half an hour too early – it's midnight, we were going to wake you to keep a check on that concussion." Nate answered fetching Callen some water.

"And to be annoying?" G quipped.

"And to be annoying." Sam affirmed. "Now get some rest, your disturbing Nate's beauty régime.'

Callen accepted the offered glass with a grateful smile, but paused before drinking.

"What happened to Travis… uh the Jonas brother?" G questioned glassing over his slip.

"Who's Travis?" The razor sharp psychologist queried.

"You know- British band … so-so music." Callen replied quickly, he'd have to watch himself while his head was this out of the game. As much as he rated Nate compared to any psych he'd endured in a long time, he did not need him poking round in his head right now, and things were painful enough.

"Hey Nate while your up, I'll take that coffee now please?" Sam asked in a chipper tone.

Nate glanced at the chair he had only just dropped into and then threw a deadpan look Sam's way, which the agent skillfully ignored. He rose without comment and made the short journey to the other side of the large open plan office the bull pen was situated in.

Once the Doctor had moved far enough away Sam leaned in towards Callen.

"Level with me G – what's going on with you?"

"Oh now I know you need a shift break Nurse Hanna, you and the Doc there, are keeping your beady eyes on me because of that lump on my head remember? Geez did you even graduate Nurse Col…"

"Cut it out G!" Sam snapped in an annoyed tone. Sighing the taller agent leaned his elbows on his knees, before meeting the other man's bright blue eyes unflinchingly. "I saw you at the ELE camp man; you were pretty upset over something."

Sam could literally hear the shutters coming down and see the deadbolts slamming into place behind Callen's suddenly flinty gaze. But apart from the muscle that jumped in his clenched jaw, his partner stayed silent. And Sam wasn't sure what he was expecting but it definitely was not the petulant, silent treatment. Though it was an irrational anger, Sam could feel it build regardless. Today hadn't been a piece of cake for him either. Practically carrying Callen towards a group of EMT's, stirred uncomfortable memories of _**that **_day. The day he had scrapped G off the sidewalk, gasping and struggling for breath and willed him- hell he was certain he had begged him to hang on, to… live. And now the infuriating pain in his ass actually thought that his Kevlar plated, precious barriers were actually going to stop him?

"Hey Nate?" Sam's attempt at a sweet tone actually came out as a growl. "I have some of G's things in the boot of my car. Do you think you could get them for me please?"

Callen dropped his voice so only Sam could hear.

"We don't share Sam." He cautioned flatly. "What you goanna do? Interrogate me?'

Sam glared back and matched the low menacing tone. "If it's the only way to make you see sense. "

"Ok – back off both of you!" Nate ordered coming to plant himself physically between them, he threw Hanna a 'What the hell?" look.

Callen used the interruption to make his get away. "I need the head"

As he got up with only a slightly unsteady lurch, Sam could not help a parting shot.

"Head adjustment more like." Sam huffed.

Callen halted in his tracks and turned back towards Sam.

"Why don't you just get off my case there Mother hen – I didn't ask for your damned help ok?" G flung over his shoulder as he exited.

Sam looked genuinely stung for a moment before the frown descended, and then Nate was there.

"Look I get that I may not understand your subtle secret undercover code – but I read body language pretty well Sam, now is not the time to cover for Callen. He is suffering a concussion, but more than that, the effects of his injury can show up in all kinds of nasty ways. Mix that with Callen's background and you have some potentially lethal combinations."

Sam stares directly into Nate's no-nonsense face, and feels the last of his reservations slip away.

"Whilst he was being treated by the paramedics …" Sam wavered, this felt like giving up a friend.

"I am not the enemy Sam, I play on your side here, remember? Believe it or not I am in this for you guys, for Callen."

"He was mumbling something about that kid Jay, we picked up – except he kept calling him Travis, like he knew him… and just before he went down G was pretty worked up over something."

"Worked up?" Nate asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Something really pushed all his buttons Nate – he was…."

"Blubbing like a girl – right Sam? You saw that with out the night vision goggles, must be one of those Seal things huh?"

There was a sharp edge to Callen's voice that surprised Nate with its ferocity.

"Callen, Sam argued for an hour straight to get your release approved. He talked faster than that to get me to vouch for …"

Sam wordlessly moved closer to G, as the injured agent leaned against the doorframe. He moved right into Callen's space, catching the other man's startling blue gaze and mercilessly holding it, even as G tried to shrink away.

"Do you really think there is ever a time I don't have your back G?" Sam asked simply, his voice cracking.

G's eyes were glazed, and as he swallowed the lump in his throat he could only shake his head to affirm his faith in his partner of three years and half years.

Trusting anyone was a tall order for Callen. The difference with Sam was not that Callen feared his trust was mislaid, Sam Hanna's was an impassible friendship – G had learned that lesson repeatedly. What had G running scared was that the friend who had come closest to glimpsing who he really was, would finally see him for the fake he really was. He wasn't ready to let Sam into those light forsaken parts of his soul – because G wasn't ready to loose the lifeline Sam had become. Something about his foggy memories of Travis and that lost night made him more afraid than ever of the consequences of Sam seeing him for what he really was- a killer.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N;** Hey there- I should definitely start with a BIG sorry for the absolute age it has taken me to update this, and I am trying hard to keep up a regular writing schedule this year... lets see... LOL;) But one thing I can promise, I will not be abandoning this story. I've started so I will finish! Thank you to all those who are still following ... here goes...

**War Games**

**Chapter 4**

Nate was certain about many things. His love of contemporary jazz, his potential with the harmonica, the need to meet with his parents a maximum of twice a year to avoid nuclear fallouts, and... that was hiding something. And unless he missed his guess, the agent himself was fuzzy on the details and this was long before the tell-tale marks of concussion were making themselves known.

What Nate was uncertain about, was how best to proceed with this little experiment. He had an unusual patient in Callen, in that Callen never had the patience to be... well a patient. Nate had gone along with Sam's theory about the adverse effect of hospitalization on his partner. He'd seen for himself the lengths to which Callen would go to, to avoid institutionalised care. However there was more going on here than a long held phobia, but could he gamble with the agent's health? He watched Callen's hunched sleeping form. The other man's breath hitched a little drawing Getz's attention. In the next moment, the murmuring began.

G knew running was not going to cut it this time. Why had he listened to Travis? Hadn't he practiced this drill dozens of times over? Stay down, stay low, protect yourself- get out. He was on his knees- he was down alright, but it was too late. Much too late. Police lights mixed readily with slightly shaky handheld flashlights in the corner of his vision. He dared not look up, was Travis still in the room? G had been busted with the gun. The cops had, had to pry it from his hand. He couldn't face them- he couldn't face himself. What had he done? It all happened so damn fast, even peeking at it in his mind's eye didn't help him make sense of that split second when he had lost his friend. Travis had come apart in front of him; yelling and screaming at Cooper like a crazed animal that no longer registered any external hurt that could compete with the pain inside. It was like he exploded and threw himself against their drunken tormentor with all the rage he bottled within him. But he was in reality a ten year old child, and all his might and will and power could not compete with the white hot projectile that entered his body at lethally close range.

G was unsure if the screams playing themselves on a loop in his head were Travis before the weapon discharged or his own tortured cries in the aftermath. That gunshot was like thunder and it hurt his ears. He knew he was standing too close … could he have actually been... was he holding the weapon when it went off? He looked down at his small shaky hands, stained crimson and reeking of a metallic tangy smell that caused his stomach to clench. Slowly he began to raise his head he had to look, he had to man up – he owed Travis that much... the tremors began in his hands but soon spread. Fear coursed through him, a great weight pushing on his chest and crushing his heart...

"What have I done?"

Nate watched Callen from the slight distance of the coffee station. He knew Callen was dreaming; the slight whimpers and REM had given it away. He also knew that Sam's agitated voice would be enough to wake Callen. As the agents friend he wanted to spare him as much as he could but as his doctor he knew that Callen had to come face to face with this demon before he could conquer it. Nevertheless he needed to monitor the situation, not an easy task with Sam's tirade in full flow.

"Look Nate, I trust that you have his back but I have never seen him bite like that. Not even when I first got assigned to the pain in my ass! I've seen that man beat to hell – and though he'd let me ferry him to the nearest ER, I'd only get to stick around long enough to help him secure his ride out of there... he then kind of dismisses you know?"

Nate looked at the genuine worry in Sam's eyes and despite his distraction he felt moved.

"I know Sam; it's what makes evaluation season such a healthy challenge for me! But seriously, it's also why I need to keep a real close eye on him..."

A distinct outcry from the sofa had both men heading for the sleeping agent. Nate reached Callen first just as the shorter man jack-knifed in to breathless wakefulness. Callen's white knuckled grip of the well-worn couch matched the harsh breaths that tore from his chest. And then Nate was there.

"Callen, Callen? Can you hear me?"

Nate's voice was neutral but he couldn't keep the concern out of it, just as his out flung arm attempted in vain to hold back the tide of Sam in order to give Callen some space. The man in front of him was agitated and breathing like he'd just run up San Francisco's crookedest street chased by hell hounds.

Turning to Sam, Nate gestured to the water cooler with what he hoped was the right mixture of urgency and authority that would override that dangerous gleam in Sam's eye. But the Seal relented and gave Nate the chance to bring Callen down from whatever dream induced high he was on.

Looking intently at the pale sweating agent on the couch, Getz quickly drops to one knee beside him, staying close but just outside the other man's personal space. Callen's eyes are glassy and his face holds a look of sheer panic and horror, he seems to be whispering something to himself over and over, even as he fought to catch his breath. Putting his ear closer to Callen he catches snatches of the breathless man's ramblings.

"I'm so sorry Travis – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry… I never meant to… please forgive me… please..."

Taking a breath of his own that he didn't realise he'd been holding, Getz decides to intervene.

Placing a hand slowly in a feather light manner on Callen's shoulder he keeps his voice strong but conversational.

"G? It's Nate. Who is Travis, G?"

Callen startles his head snapping towards the doctor despite the careful handling his eyes are wide in terror, as if seeing some phantom in the room. On instinct he clasps Nate's hand in a crushing grasp. His head is swinging wildly in denial and he can't get his words out fast enough, or in an orderly sentence.

"I didn't mean… Nate, you can't think I ever meant to … It was an accident – God please it had to be an accident – I would not… I, I could never…" Callen's babbling went on carrying to higher levels of hysteria.

Nate had to stop this; his patient was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Agent Callen – you will answer my question! Who is Travis?"

Nate's voice cracked a little at the end, but he knew Callen was too far gone to notice. He was keenly aware of two things. Sam's looming form had drawn up beside him and Callen had started shake with tremors that seemed to catch his entire body.

"G!" Sam's alarmed voice cried out as the other agent's eyes rolled back into his head and he began to convulse.

Nate was quick to act, the doctor in him taking control front and centre. He began to turn Callen on his side even as he checked to ensure there was nothing the downed man could hurt himself on.

"Sam ambulance – now!" he growled.

Sam's training and years of active field duty are shaken awake and he quickly makes the emergency call. His eye never leaving his partner and friend's seizing form. How could he have taken this stupid chance with his friend's health? Maybe he'd been partnered with G too long - he was even beginning to view the world like the nut! Of course Callen should have stayed where he was, in the safe environment of the hospital! Damn it what the hell was he thinking? Unlike G, Sam knew crazy was **not**the only game in town. He knew better than this! Maybe he was too close to G? If he'd have only kept his objective Callen would not be writhing in pain so far from medical help. What if the brilliance and the lunacy that made Callen so damn convincing was bad for both of them? Partners after all were supposed to complement each other's strengths and weaknesses. Isn't that what Hetty was always telling them? Sam cursed himself silently. He should have been stronger – less reckless. He should have pulled G back from this at the first sign of trouble – not joined him in the deep end. Watching G flailing helplessly in front of him Hannah made a silent vow to do whatever it took to fix this. Hard decisions had to be made sometimes. Sam had never been afraid to make them before.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N; ** I can not get over all the support and kind reviews that I have received for this story... yes it is pushing the pen a little quicker! LOL. I have to give an honourable mention to SilverSentinal21 who has really brought some light to the dim recesses of my medical knowledge, and introduced me to a most helpful website. I play fast and loose with all medical stuff – I have no medical background, but I did research the boundaries here – if not all the fine details. All the up-coming Callen whump is played out in my sandbox – so I hope you'll all excuse any liberties I take in this and future chapters. Thanks again for reading. Abi.

**DISCLAIMER;** Someone suggested that I needed one of these – yes it IS painful to admit but … I don't own Callen or any of the other NCISLA regulars.

**WAR GAMES; CHAPTER FIVE:**

When machines got involved in hot drinks, the result was always a disastrous, toxic sludge. Why oh why would people not learn that the shortest, quickest route taken was quite often that last leap over the edge? Brew the bloody tea; it tasted so much better!

Henrietta Lange knew that even her mind was stalling, babbling away with things of no consequence to try and numb her emotions against the seriousness of her team's present predicament. She tallied up her woes; her lead agent was out of commission, there was a very real and tangible threat to one of the best partnerships she had handled in her very long covert career, her team had been stood down – none of them were in a fit state of readiness to take on a new case right now and her chief psychologist was growing himself a fine self flagellation complex. All in all – she was buggered!

To top her pile of headaches, at the very heart of this cacophony of pain, was her growing concern for Mr Callen's mental and physical well-being. Her lead agent was one tough operator, and often held himself a little too rigidly for Hetty's liking, but right now she was about to test his mettle further. As she watched him sleep, the last thing in the world she wanted to do was rob him of what little peace he managed to sink into. She had read through the medical results from the battery of tests they had run. Needless to say following his episode he was off active duty.

"His ECG shows no unusual brain activity, it's a small blessing. I thought with the concussion – for sure his seizure was ..." Nate began in a heavy voice.

Hetty had forgotten his presence, a testimony to the fact that maybe her team were not the only ones off their game.

"His seizure was _not _your fault Mr Getz. I know you think yours and Mr Hanna's little experiment put him in harms way but I would surmise from those results that Mr Callen's episode has more to do with the fact that he _grew up _in harms way! Am I right?"

The young psychologist ran a hand over his face with a muted nod.

"Yes but rule number one ..." he began in an oddly defiant but guilt ridden tone.

"Rule number one has never applied to Mr Callen in his whole life – and you know it. Now am I reading this medical mumbo- jumbo right? He does not have epilepsy? He had a Non epileptic seizure?" Hetty's tone was business like enough to fool the unobservant majority.

Nate nodded looking her dead in the eye in a reassuring manner. " We may need to re-run tests at intervals – maybe some blood-work, but the results are very encouraging. It does however mean that Callen's episode was psychogenic in origin, brought about by extreme stress and an unaddressed or unrecognised psychological conflict."

Nate paused to throw Hetty a "where do I begin" look. He knew that the real work with Callen would begin as soon as he regained consciousness. He knew that if he had found the psych evaluations frustrating, getting Callen to actually open up and address some or all of his issues, this was like the Kilimanjaro of all evaluations. Getz knew that Hetty knew it too.

"I'm going to need help, maybe Sam could..."

"Therein lays my second quandary Mr Getz. Agent Hanna has requested a new partner."

"What?!"

Nate's tone held all the shock and disbelief that Hetty's twenty minute colourful tirade had voiced when she had opened the letter Sam had dropped off. At the time she had assumed he was eager to get back to his partners side, and while he never strayed from the waiting room, his visit with Callen was brief. She wondered idly if Sam was not in shock. The move to leave Callen, especially at this time seemed cold, and entirely un-Sam-like.

"Sam must be blaming himself for Callen's situation, there can't be any other answer. I'll deal with Sam first, whilst Callen is resting. We'll need him – Callen needs him." Nate let his voice drop from the height it had reached not wanting to wake the patient.

"You do that Mr Getz, and keep me informed." Hetty replied eyes never leaving the bed.

Nate risked a hand on his boss' shoulder on his way out. "Callen will be al-right – this is something we can deal with."

Hetty smiled at the young man as he left, more for his benefit than hers. She waited patiently for a moment. Then another, before getting up from her bedside post and fetching the glass of water.

"How much of that were you awake for Mr Callen?" She asked in a soft businesslike manner.

Callen swallowed deeply grateful for the lowered voice and the offered glass that he sensed rather than saw. He made no attempt to sit up as he cracked both eyes slowly, painfully, allowing the images in the room to right themselves just as the sounds had done. This realigning of mind and body was like no other he could recall. The bone weariness that whatever drug of choice they had administered to help him rest, could not quite take the edge off was only the tip of the iceberg. He felt disjointed, his senses were sluggish and didn't appear to want to knit together willingly, giving the whole regaining concussions an 'Alice in Wonderland' type effect that probably accounted for the half heard conversation between Getz and Hetty and her newly acquired... red halo?

"Mr Callen?" her voice was two parts business to eight parts unconcealed concern. "Do you need the medical staff – why are you looking at me like that? Are you in pan?

His hand swiped out, catching her wrist on instinct as she was about to activate the alarm.

"No – f,fine." was all he could manage.

She looked at him appraisingly, and he realised that the look he caught was tinged with doubt, doubt directed at him.

"Forgive me Mr Callen but isn't it exactly that cavalier attitude that has us in this fix?"

"That why Sam wants out? Too … risky..." he turned away as if he could stall the answer that he, himself sought.

Hetty was about to deny it and put him straight on his interpretation of both her words and the half herd conversation with Nate. She was about to explain to her mulish Lead Agent that the only intentional threat he ever posed seemed to be directed at himself. However she was interrupted by the charging form of comet Hanna and the trailing tail that was Nate Getz.

Both men stopped mid-flight; Sam catching G's cool blue gaze and Nate braving the questioning look Hetty fired at him. Lange watched as Nate swallowed and caught on instantly that there had been a kink in his efforts to secure Sam's help with Callen. Hetty braced herself for whatever extreme weather condition was about to play out in front of her. In her experience Callen always presented a cold front whenever unsure of how to respond or uncertain of his audience, whereas hot tempered Sam always reacted on instinct, meeting most challenges head on.

"Glad to see your up G" Sam began surprisingly taking the lead in a mild tone.

Nate was too shocked by the gentile pleasant manner agent Hannah was presenting to notice Callen's lack of response or the reddening colour of his cheeks.

"Hetty" Sam carried on in a tone that would have been comical if it hadn't been so obviously uncomfortable "could I have a word with you in private?"

"What's the matter big guy?" G began in a dangerously loaded tone all hint of vulnerability Hetty had witnessed mere moments before erased. " Afraid to tell it like it is to my face … brother? What the hell happened to leaving no man behind Sam?"

Sam raised himself to his full height, holding all the hurt in his eyes but keeping his tone level he replied simply. "It 'ain't like that G, I'm not leaving you behind, I'm trying to..."

"To run away? To make a quick exit before the broken, lost boy really goes postal worker on everyone? Huh?" Callen voice raised with every accusation.

The growling tone was so foreign both in it's originator and intended target that Hetty all but pinched herself out of stunned silence. Her ability to read her Agent in Charge had always been a blessing when dealing with a personality as complex as Callen's. But here and now, she found herself at a miserable loss. All she knew for certain was that he was hurting, the raw look of betrayal and pain that coloured his over bright eyes and centred on Sam was unbearable to watch. In all honesty the entry of his attending physician saved Hetty, because she truly had no idea how to proceed.

The head consultant of Neurology, Dr Camran Mildern, looked round the room in a slightly unsure manner. These three characters had taken up all but permanent residence in his wing over the past forty eight hours, this was usually a good indication of concern and fealty. The scene he had walked into was definitely at odds with his earlier assessment, but that was not the puzzle before him. Checking his clipboard and choosing to feign ignorance he put all his attention on his patient.

"Mr Oliver? It's good to see you rejoining us."

Glancing at the other occupants of the room he continued "Could Gary and I have the room please I need to run some tests?"

There was a dark chuckle from the bed. "There are no secrets amongst families Doc – but I think I'd like to spare them the gory details."

"Uhh Dr Mildern, I am Mr Oliver's physician and I'd quite like to stay with my..."

"I think I'd rather do this alone Dr Getz." Callen interrupted in a hollow voice "I'm sure any relevant details will be made available to you in my records."

Startled for the third time in the last twenty minutes Nate met Callen's frigidly dismissive gaze. He was fairly sure his mouth was open and he was genuinely dumbstruck, he registered Hetty's voice as she came to the rescue right on que.

" Of course, we don't want to crowd the Doctor, but I do feel that Dr Getz would only be an asset to the overall assessment, Gary. Won't you please reconsider?" Hetty locked eyes with Callen in a silent battle royal.

In the end there could only be one victor. Hetty and Sam left the room and closed the door on the beginningsof Dr Mildern's examination of Callen, under Nate's vigilant eye.

Hetty did not speak to the towering figure beside her. Quite apart from the need for a more private setting, it was her experience that Sam's defences were air tight and battle hardened against a frontal assault. No the way to get through to Fortress Hanna was to let the mountain come to you.

They both entered the nondescript door into a pastel haze of lilac walls and inoffensive paintings that the Operations Manager could only assume was one of many 'bad news' rooms. She had seen her fair share and they all had the same benign air. Indicating the seat next to hers she silently invited her agent to be seated.

" I didn't think he'd be up, I wanted to talk to you Hetty." Sam began in an apologetic tone.

"Oh I've no doubt that your run in with Agent Callen was unintentional Mr Hanna, I know the lengths you've gone through over the past three years to keep him safe, that's why your letter perplexes me so..."

"Three and a half years." Sam answered as if on auto-pilot mimicking a conversation he remembered having with G not so long ago.

Lifting his large brown eyes with a hint of suspicion towards his handler, Sam studied the masterful poker face Hetty was displaying, a sad half smile played across his lips before his frown overtook it.

"It's precisely that fact that led me to write that letter Hetty. I … I can't operate in a professional way if I compromise what I know to be sense and jump on the Callen crazy train."

"Is that the capacity you think you fulfil Mr Hanna – a hanger on, a follower in the wake of our brilliant but maverick lead agent? Far from it! You came to the undercover field from a different branch of operations Sam, but you know that there are many paths to creating a field agent. You honed your skills, Mr Callen for all intents and purposes was bred into this life. He could no more mimic your methods of achieving the job, than you could duplicate his. I don't believe you follow so much as counterbalance your partner's unorthodox plans – you bring him home Sam, never forget that!"

Sam's eyes were liquid bright as he made himself continue. This felt entirely like betraying his best friend, abandoning him when he was down and hurt. All of Callen's arrows had hit home – especially the grating way G had called him "brother". That was exactly how he saw the other agent, after all they had endured together it had been inevitable. Sam could not – would not see G hurt because he was too weak to do the right thing. Time had come to man up, maybe one day G would see why this was necessary. But at least his soon to be ex- partner would _live_ to make it to that one day!

He knew that, that wish was a long shot – G Callen did not trust lightly, and once that trust was compromised in his eyes, there was no telling how many centuries would pass or squadrons of bacon would make it through the flying academy, before Sam would get a chance to plead his case. But he knew what he had to do – now he'd just need to broker terms with Hetty.


End file.
